08 June 2014 @ 07:41 pm
[she's hoping that she sounds more "down to business" rather than "i'm just sitting with a bunch of stuff and i need to work out some of these emotions". though to be fair, she is really just sitting around with a bunch of stuff trying to work out some of her emotions.]

My name is Cortana, which I'm sure some of you know, but it doesn't hurt to make yourself known. I'm also Cortana that doesn't really have anything to do, so I'm proposing something. Bring me anything you find around the ship: scraps, wires, batteries, records, radios - anything.

If you do this, I'll owe you. Sometimes, you just need to practice your motor skills, right?

[she just sighs a little bit before running her hands through her hair.]

Contact me directly, or just drop things right at my door.

Thank you.
 
 
11 April 2014 @ 11:07 pm
[ the distress signal is tapped out using her fingernail against a wall. it's one of the few signals jane knows in morse code, a trick taught to her by her father during their many late night stargazes. ]

· · · – – – · · ·

[ SOS

a few seconds pass, silently but only slightly disturbed by soft, hurried pants and then, ]


Hello. I'm Dr. Jane Foster of — of Earth. Or Midgard. [ jane feels the need to mention that, in case she tripped slapstick style into a gravitational anomaly and ended up god knows where again. she knows that by this point she shouldn't feel surprised waking up in a strange place, lost and confused, with a number tattooed on her arm. after all, safety and normalcy had pretty much been tossed out the window as soon as she hit the god of thunder with her van.

it still does, though. it's like a seizure by the throat, a fire shut up in her bones that makes her both restless and weary. it's the fear that never truly leaves the body, like malaria, and it's a fear clearly evident in her voice when she speaks again, ]


I — don't know where I am. Or how I got here. Or what any of this is. [ she won't exactly say it, but jane is completely clueless. it's an odd, sickening feeling and one she isn't used to. usually, she could grasp at straws, ultimately finding a conclusion through the little scraps of clues she was handed. in fact, her entire career has been built on that. here, however, there are no answers and no work for jane to use as a distraction. all there is the silence and the cold, harsh reality of the unknown.

jane lets out a sigh, heavy and tired as if the realisation just dawned on her, and she runs a shaky hand through her hair. ]
If anyone can hear me, I need answers. Please.
 
 
09 April 2014 @ 03:23 am
Look. If this is a SHIELD bag and tag I'm really sorry, ok? For w/e it is that I did. Can I please go home now? I learned my lesson.

If this is not a SHIELD punishment, did somebody's ASSHOLE BROTHER open an Einstein-Rainbow bridge into space? Like AN ASSHOLE?? Not cool.


[ That is not what a wormhole is called, Darcy. ]

More to the point, who do I have to blow* to get a beer around here?



*No one is actually gonna get blown. sry not sry. pls give beer tho k tnx.
 
 
17 March 2014 @ 12:49 am
[ cortana in the background, her little form trying to move things around in her tiny little room. there’s a moment where she looks at a torso, raises an eyebrow and tells someone to get talking. ]

You don’t have to show your face. [small arms crossing before making a movement with her fingers for him to turn the camera away from her and back to him.] You have a very nice torso, I’m sure they’ll get the idea.

[ and then the nice torso starts actually talking: ]

Fine.

[ he murmurs it quickly as he straightens the video out. his hands keeping the feed pointed towards his chest and the pieces of armor that they have settled into the room just beside him. the most important parts (the ones they can’t afford to lose). the armor is his best weapon--but it requires skilled hands, diagnostics, patch ups. but in the end, he’d rather keep what he has to himself. on the downlow. it’s easier this way, but at the same time, frustrating. his voice is a bit gruff. ]

I’m looking for a suit technician. Preferably one from between the stardates of 2517 and 2557. I can be flexible if necessary. Give or take a couple of decades… maybe a century or two.

[ the beat that follows confesses something along the lines of “i just wear the suit, i don’t do much else with it.” not to mention, he’s never actually taken it off of his own volition.

cortana’s voice springs in, clear as a bell and chief can be heard letting out a sigh (relief, maybe?) ]


We’re also looking for something that can easily move 900+ pounds of armor. Preferably in a cargo bay with lots of room for maneuvering, and high powered tools. Not that I don’t mind making the Master Chief put his back into it, but it would make it easier for the both of us if I didn’t spend a few centuries trying to get things bolted down.

[ it’s only with a sharp, small elbow to the rib that he closes: ]

Chief and Cortana. Out.
 
 
12 January 2014 @ 02:37 pm
I NEED A WORKIGN LIGHTER FROM SOMEONE
I'VE RUN OUT OF MATCHES


[So either this is a) VERY IMPORTANT TO BIGBY or b) this is his first post to the network and he still doesn't know what he's doing with his communicator. What on Earth in capslock. And maybe he should have chosen video or voice but -- well. He doesn't know how to switch over to either of those now.

This is going to be an awful learning process, isn't it. Be proud he even made an attempt.]
 
 
07 January 2014 @ 10:34 pm
[hello everyone! she waves a little awkwardly, all blue and tattoos on her hands and down her arms, even as she shifts a little with a cheery smile.]

Wasn't there a story in Earth literature, in the 1800s about a man that fell asleep for 20 years? He slept through all of these landmarks in history and his own life. I suppose I exaggerate, but I am pretty sure the sentiment is the same. [a beat; sleeping is for organics and she's never "slept".]

I was hoping if you could help, it's sort of a long shot but ... I'm wondering if someone might have been brought here while I was asleep? He's 7'2, wears heavy armor bearing the insignia of an eagle and the letters UNSC and answers to Master Chief Petty Officer Spartan-117.

[he shouldn't be here, but she's been monitoring everything before she went into stasis, she doesn't want him to slip through the cracks- she can breathe easier once she realizes that he hasn't shown up.]

If he's out there, and he doesn't see this, tell him Cortana is looking for him.

[for a moment, it drops as she looks to the ground before looking back up again and putting it back on her face.]

If he's not here, you have one handy civilian consultant you can use. Put me to work anywhere, especially computer systems you can say that I live and breathe them.